


See No Evil

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Episode Related, First Times, M/M, Romance, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim doesn't get his sight back after the Golden incident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See No Evil

## See No Evil

by Athena

Author's website:  <http://fateordestiny.com>

I like to thank Becky for her transcripts.

Spoilers for Blind Man's Bluff and Hear No Evil

* * *

There's a knock on the door of the loft. Jim is still on the sofa, playing with the remote 

"That'd be Margaret." Blair moved toward door. "Well, you know what, I just realized it's crazy for me to try to keep you guys apart. So, uh, I'm giving you both my blessing." 

Jim turned off the TV. "Wait. Wait. Wait." 

"What's the matter?" 

"Come on, man. I lied to her. I mean I deceived her." Blair opened the door. 

"So make it up to her." Margaret said, "Hi," still standing in the doorway. 

"Hi," said Jim to the golden haze. His eyesight was all gold light. The doctor said his eyes were responding to light and he wasn't technologically blind. "Margaret, sit down. I lied when I said you looked the way I pictured your voice." 

"In what way?" asked Margaret. 

"Blair, I can hear you breathe. Sit down." Blair sat on loveseat. 

Jim gestured toward the location of the sofa. "Sit down. Let me see you." 

Margaret sat on the sofa. Mentally, Jim counted the number of steps it took to go from the door to the sofa then sat down. 

"Oh my God. You're blind," Margaret exclaimed. "No wonder you didn't know about the wine." 

Jim put his hands on Margaret's face. "I was following a new designer drug. The suppliers gave me a sample to test and I got it in my eyes. Smooth skin. No make-up, next time. I want to feel you, not powder. Pretty smile." 

Margaret took his hands off her face. "What was the whistling about?" 

"Blair wants me to use echo location like a bat. I can't hear echoes." 

"You aren't a bat," said Margaret. 

"The blind do it by tapping their canes," said Blair. Jim winced. 

"I hear the bang, not the echo." " 

Jim, there are rehabilitation centers that will teach you that," said Margaret. 

"I'm sorry I let you believe I could see you," said Jim. "You must hate me." 

"I don't hate you." Margaret took his hand. "I can help you through the maze of agencies." 

Jim blushed. "Thanks. We can go through the yellow pages tomorrow after Blair and I talk to Vera about me going on disability." Disability that made him wince. Who ever heard of a blind cop? The only two jobs he had were military officer and cop. As an Army Captain 20/20, vision was part of the job description. Margaret had to say rehabilitation. 

Blair said, "I'll make dinner. You and Margaret talk. Pretend I'm not here." 

Jim turned his face to track Blair's steps with his ears. "While you're banging my pots around." 

"Have you read Executive Orders by Tom Clancy, yet?" asked Margaret. She gasped and put a hand to her face. Jim took her hand off her face. 

"It's OK. He's on audio cassette and in Braille." 

"You're handing this so well." 

"I have Blair and you to support me." Jim continued to hold Margaret's hand. "When I was sitting in that dark room, not knowing if Blair would live one moment to the next and remembering the panic in his voice when he spoke about fire people not really being ash, I would have given anything for my Blair to wake up. He's alive and well. I have a lot to be thankful for." 

Blair stopped his chopping then put something into the wok. Jim smelled the chicken from the fridge been added to the onions and peppers. 

Jim said, "Did you remember to turn on the rice cooker?" 

Blair pushed the button on the rice cooker. "Better," said Jim. 

Margaret said, "How did you know he didn't turn on the cooker?" 

Jim smiled. "Guilty silence." Actually, he heard Blair push the button, but he couldn't tell Margaret that. "Now the stir-fry chicken will be done and we still will waiting for the rice." 

Margaret let go of Jim's hand. "I can stir the chicken. Jim, you and Blair should cuddle or listen to the news." 

Margaret got up to walk over to the kitchen. Jim felt the shift in the cushions as Blair sat down on the sofa then placed an arm around Blair. He felt Blair's long curly hair as he pulled him close. "You smell so good and feel so good." 

Blair rested against Jim's chest. "I'm so sorry." 

"You're here where you belong. That's all that matters. The lab said that there was enough poison on that pizza to kill several men." Jim lightly stroked Blair's cheek. As Jim moved his hand over Blair's face touching his forehead and then his nose and then his cheeks, he could see Blair's beautiful face in his mind. 

"I have a good metabolism." 

"You're so beautiful." 

"Jim, we have company," Blair said. 

"She gave her approval." Jim felt for the remote on the coffee table with one hand as he kept the other hand on Blair. He flipped through the channels until he heard Wendy Hawthorne's voice reporting the news. He sat back to listen to the fires, robberies and, luckily, no murders in the city today. He could smell the chicken cooking in soy sauce and ginger as he heard the sports news. The Jags won yesterday. 

Jim walked to the kitchen table when he heard Margaret setting the dishes. "I can do that." 

"You sit," said Margaret. "Blair and I can serve you." 

Jim sat down. "Yes, Ma'am." 

After dinner, Blair and Margaret insisted on cleaning up the dinner dishes. "You'll probably have to make and clean up dinner as homework when you after you start rehab," teased Blair. "You might as well learn how to do it right. Why break yourself of bad habits?" 

"I make dinner after I go to rehab," said Jim. 

Blair said in a pleasant voice, "Every night if you want." 

After Margaret left, Jim said, "Let's go upstairs. I want to touch every millimeter of your body. I want my hands to memorize you." 

Blair whispered, "I'm yours." 

Jim got into the bed and started to undress. "Blair, I was so frightened that I would lose you. I listened to your heart monitor, touched your face, brushed back your hair and kissed your forehead. All I can see is this golden light." 

Blair hit the light switch. "Now?" 

"It's darker, but it's still there. What I am saying is all that matters are you and me. Together." Jim said to the darker shape in the direction of Blair's voice. "Sit by me." 

Blair sat beside Jim and put an arm around Jim. "Better." 

Jim put his hands on Blair's face, brushed away the stray hairs, and placed his hands on the young man's shoulders then kissed Blair on the lips. He opened his mouth to taste Blair and the ginger chicken still on his breath. He wrapped his arms around him as he continued to taste Blair's tongue. 

When he got up for air, Jim placed his hands on the younger man's firm ass and pulled him down to the bed. "You feel so nice." 

Blair rolled on top of Jim, spread his legs to balance himself and touched Jim's face. From his breath, Jim could tell Blair was looked right at him. "Do you love me?" asked the younger man. 

"I didn't know how much until you were lying in that hospital bed fading in and out of consciousness." 

"Jim, what can you see?" 

"Now that the lights are dimmed, a golden shaped Blair. I can't make out your features. If you can't see the big E on the vision chart, you're legally blind. The edges are blurred, so I can't even use my eyes for navigation." 

"You aren't completely blind." Blair straddled Jim. His face was still inches away from Jim's. 

"Now that the glare is less, the glow off you is so beautiful." Jim touched Blair face then put his fingers through Blair's hair. "So beautiful." 

Jim pulled Blair's head down for another kiss. He came so close to losing Blair. Ginger and Blair. Blair's hair was so soft. Jim kissed Blair's neck then shoulder. His hands directed his mouth. He could feel Blair's hard-on rub against his. He pressed Blair's hairy chest against his lightly haired one. He needed to feel Blair, connect with Blair. "Blair, what you're doing is very nice." 

"I can give you more," said Blair. 

Jim felt Blair's weight shift on the bed. He was going lower. Then he felt Blair's hair touch his legs as his arms went around his waist. "What are you doing?" 

Blair whispered, "You will find out." 

Jim felt Blair's mouth and tongue on his shaft. He was getting so hard. He didn't want to come, not yet. Blair felt so good with his head down there working him. Jim closed his eyes. "Blair, you're so good." 

Jim thrusted into Blair's willing mouth. Blair held onto Jim's behind and waist as Jim fired. Jim relaxed. Blair rolled over onto the king-sized mattress as he swallowed the cum in his mouth. 

Jim touched Blair with both his hands. "I love you." His hands went along the sides of his body, over his chest and nipples. Only a sentinel would feel the slight scar caused by a long gone nipple ring. He could feel his ribs under a very thin layer of fat. Blair's stomach muscles felt tight. He was slender but strong. Jim traced the lines of Blair's body with his fingertips. He wanted a mental image of Blair before time distorted such things. Blair would always be young and beautiful in Jim's mind. 

Jim touched his belly button. Blair giggled and shifted his weight on the bed as Jim's finger teased Blair's belly, threatening to touch his naughty bits. Jim's index and middle fingers touched Blair's pubic hair. Blair squirmed so more. 

"Come on, man." 

"I want to feel all of you," said Jim. 

"You're making me so hot." 

Jim used a single finger to touch Blair's cock while his other hand held Blair's behind to keep him from wiggling. "You aren't little where it counts." 

"You keep touching me and it will get bigger." 

Jim's hands found Blair's balls. "You're so beautiful." 

"You're making a picture of me with your hands." Blair said while Jim was gently fingered his balls and cock. 

Jim moved on to his legs and those size 8 1/2 feet. He kissed and sucked on those toes before moving on. So little, so perfect. "Roll over. I need to explore your other side." 

Blair rolled over. "You're torturing me." 

Jim touched Blair's legs then his perfect ass. "But it's sweet torture." Then he felt Blair's back and shoulders. 

"You feel good." 

"Wonderful. Jim, fuck me. I'm so hard." 

Jim kissed Blair's backside. "I don't have any KY. We can cuddle. I need to feel you beside me. Do you want me to jerk you off?" 

"Please." Blair put Jim's hand on his hard cock. 

Jim gave Blair a hand job then kissed Blair. "Better." 

"Real good." 

"You're a little messy." Jim kissed and licked the cum off his hand and Blair's belly. Salty concentrated essence of Blair. 

"Should you do that?" 

"You're liable to get hard, again. I'll risk it." 

"I don't mean that." Blair's voice conveyed distress. 

"When they bring you in for a drug overdose, they do an AIDS test. Standard procedure. We're both clean." Jim patted Blair's behind. Jim knew the last person he was with was Laura and that was over six months ago. He also knew that Blair had female odors on his clothes, but he never came home with smells of sex on his body. "You worry too much. We have a busy day ahead of us. Get some sleep." 

"Here?" 

"You can put on your tee shirt and shorts." Jim felt for Blair's clothing on the floor and threw them at Blair. "I would prefer if you slept nude. I'm going to sleep." Jim wrapped the cover around himself and covered his eyes. 

"Good night, love." 

* * *

The following morning, Blair drove Jim back to the station to sign the paperwork to start his disability. Simon had made him give his gun and badge back after Jim trashed Simon's car. Jim had caught the bad guy, but all that mattered to Simon was his car was totaled and Jim still couldn't see. 

Rhonda, Simon's secretary, gave Jim a hug. "You need to see Vera at personnel or I can help you feel out the forms." 

"Vera," said Blair. "This time, no comments about her smelling like your grandmother." 

Wearing his sunglasses indoors, Jim put his hand on Blair's arm. "Lead the way." 

Blair hugged Rhonda. "I'll be back to clean out Jim's desk. Neither of us need Simon rehashing Jim wrecking his car." 

Vera insisted on reading the workman's comp and disabilities forms out-loud. 

After what felt like an hour, Jim said, "Let's get on with it." 

"You need to know what you are signing," Vera explained. 

Blair guided Jim's hand to where to sign. "There and there." 

Jim heard Vera crinkle the papers. 

She still smelled like White Shoulder's hand lotion and body wash. "I'll mail them in for you. Good luck." 

While driving the truck back to the loft, Blair said, "Let's get you seen by a doctor and then go to the Social Security office." 

"I don't need any charity." 

"You pay into the system. You are on workman's comp and State Disability. You won't need Federal Disability for twelve weeks." 

"I'm used to doing for myself." 

"You'll find a job. You're good with your hands. Perhaps, you can go into carpentry. There are many blind carpenters. With your sense of touch." 

"I'm blind. This isn't an opportunity to explore my horizons." 

"I'm just saying a few weeks of rehabilitation and you'll be working, again. You won't need Federal Disability. Man, all I meant is it is there if you need it." 

"I own a store front and several apartments. I hire a company to do my maintenance. I could do the repairs myself if I need something to do. I don't need charity; my rental properties make me more money than I earn as a detective." 

"Excuse me. Let's make an appointment to see a doctor." 

"That doctor said it was psychosomatic. I'm willing myself to see all I can. I don't fucking want to be blind." 

"He isn't the only doctor in Cascade. What do you see?" 

"The same as yesterday. A golden haze." Jim touched his sunglasses. "The glare gets so bad that I need sunglasses." 

"Man, I'm sorry." 

"You told me I had Golden on my hands and I didn't listen. My parents told me not to stick chemicals in my eyes." 

"You shut down their operation." 

"That doesn't bring Lisa Hughes back." When they got home, Jim called another eye doctor, who agreed to a thorough exam. 

Dr. Macmillan admitted him to the hospital. She checked his eyes. "Your eyes response to light, but you have no startle reflex. That probably means the information isn't getting to the brain. Golden affects the neuro-pathways." 

"I'd say," remarked Blair. 

"You've had experience with Golden?" asked the doctor. 

"I ate tainted pizza," explained Blair. "I was shooting real bullets at imaginary people." 

"Was that the same time Jim got Golden in his eyes?" asked the doctor. 

"Later," explained Blair. "The supplier somehow figured out Jim was a cop and gave Cascade PD a surprise." 

"I locked my service revolver in a drawer. Blair had the key. I gave him a set of my keys in case something happens to me. Blair was standing on a car, shooting fire people." 

"Bad trip?" said the doctor. 

"I told him to clap his hands to frighten away the fire people," explained Jim. "You can't clap and hold a gun." 

"Did it work?" asked the doctor. 

"We're both here," said Blair. 

"Let's do a thorough exam. Things can get pretty interconnected." The doctor checked his throat and ears. "I'm surprised you can hear anything. Do things sound underwater?" 

"I suppose." 

She had a nurse clean his ears. When the doctor returned, Jim winced at the door squeaking on its hinges. 

"I'll schedule you for tests as an outpatient," she said as Jim held his ears. She spoke in a softer voice. "From what you told me, I suspect optic nerve damage. I'll give you a prescription for rehab." 

"That's it?" Blair asked as Jim continued to wince and hold his ears. 

"I can't treat nerve damage. Golden affects the way you process visional data. That's why Blair saw those fire people. The nurse will give you a paper on follow-up care." 

After the doctor left, Blair took a chair as Jim dressed. Jim sat the stool to put on his socks and shoes. "Everything's too loud." 

Blair whispered, "The loft will be quieter." Blair put Jim's paperwork in his backpack then put the backpack over his shoulder. "Jim, you suffered from impacted wax. It's no big deal. So do a lot of other people. In your case, your sentinel hearing compensated and we never knew how powerful it actually was. You'll have to start at the beginning again." 

"Oh, that's great. That's really encouraging." 

"Come on, Jim." Blair placed Jim's hand on his arm to guide in out of the hospital. "It'll be fun. I mean, your hearing is one of your greatest assets. And if you've only been using it at half speed, think about what you can do." 

"Yeah. Spend the rest of my life being tortured by dog whistles." 

* * *

In bed that night, Jim couldn't sleep because every little sound was keeping him up. Jim, with earplugs in, tossed and turned as he heard every little sound, water dripping, car horns blaring, more water dripping then pen-scratching noises. 

Jim went downstairs to grab that pen from Blair. Who wrote at this hour? Besides they had unopened KY jelly just waiting to be used. Tire of being ignored, Jim reached over the back of the couch and grabbed Blair's pen. "Do you have to write so damn loud?" 

"Jim, you got," Jim cut Blair off by throwing the pen onto the table -- it echoed and he winced. 

"Man, get a grip. Use those earplugs I gave you." 

Jim used his hands to maneuver between the sofa and the table. "I am wearing them." Jim pulled out the earplugs. They weren't doing him any good. If he compensated for earwax, he would compensate for earplugs. 

Blair's clock alarm went off, making Jim wince again and hold his hands to his ears. Blair smacked it, turning it off. "I'm sorry. Sometimes, I got to remind myself to stop studying and go to bed." 

In his bed, Jim heard a chopper. Jim jerked upright after hearing the scream of someone falling out of a helicopter. He needed to find the chopper. He raced to the front door while finishing pulling on his pants and shoving his feet in his shoes. 

Blair comes over to him and put an arm around him. "Jim, what's going on?" 

"You didn't hear that?" Jim shoved his keys into his jacket pocket. 

"What, the choppers? They're flying over us all the time." 

"No, there were screams." 

"What?" 

Jim heard one of the voices from the helicopter again. "Down! Get him down!" said the man in the chopper. 

"It's landing." Jim raced out of the loft. 

Blair chased after him. "Jim!" 

Pulling on his coat, Jim raced out of the building. He listened toward the sky to get his bearings. Blair followed after him. 

"Come on. I think it's over here," Jim yelled. They started to run out to where Jim was hearing the chopper. The chopper lifted off and flew over the bay. "Come on. They're taking off." 

"Jim, what are you talking about, screams? What's going on?" 

"Shh!" Jim heard something plop into the water and splash, possibly the body of the man screaming. "Oh, my god!" 

"What?" Blair asked, catching up to Jim. 

"They just threw a body into the bay." Jim explained, catching his breath. He ran out there like he could see. The chopper landing was all that mattered. For a second there, he wasn't blind. He was as capable as ever. Jim crouched down on the ground, felt around until he found and picked up a glove. "The body was right here." 

Blair stooped down to where Jim was feeling the ground. "Jim, come on. How can you tell that?" 

"Heat pattern. It's still warm." Jim sniffed the glove. "There's blood. Son of a bitch." 

The following morning, Jim was wearing earplugs again and Blair was watching the recovery of the body. Simon came onto the scene. 

"Ellison! Ellison! Ellison! You aren't a cop anymore." Simon yelled. 

Jim winced. "I found a bloody glove. I heard the body splash into the harbor." 

"Jim? Jim? Jim! You okay?" Did Simon have to repeat everything three times? Once was loud enough. 

"Yeah. My ears are just a little sensitive today." 

"You were right about the body." 

"Yeah, I know, sir." Jim wished he wasn't. "Any I.D.?" 

"Undercover cop by the name of Brent Marten. Worked Narcotics." Simon put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Let the seeing cops handle it. I know you can probably tell me more about this crime scene then cops with 20/20 vision, but I have rules to follow." 

"I'm sorry about the car," said Jim. 

Blair took Jim's hand. "Man, let's go home." 

Jim let Blair guide him back to the loft. "I'm not longer your Sentinel, only four enhanced senses." 

Blair sat with him on the sofa and straightened the papers he was working on last night. "I have enough information for ten dissertations. I'm here because I love you." 

"I'm no longer your pet rat." 

Blair put an arm around Jim. "You were never my pet rat." 

"Then why did you have me run through those mazes?" 

"To help you. We're in this together." 

"Together." Jim kissed Blair, putting his hands through Blair's hair then placed his arms around his shoulders and back. His tongue tasted Blair as he closed his eyes to picture Blair's blue eyes, high cheekbones and full lips. "Honey, I love you so much." 

"Margaret is suppose to be over to help us sort through the agencies for the blind," said Blair. "Not that I don't like what you are doing." 

"How much time do we have? I have to buy one of those Braille watches." 

"I'll order you one over the Internet." Blair got up and went to his room and home office. He logged onto his computer and googled for adaptive equipment, watches for the blind. He ordered Jim a watch that he could feel the minute and hour hands. 

Jim came into his office. "How much time do we have?" 

"Man, don't come into my office. It isn't safe for the visually impaired." 

Jim took a tribal mask off the floor and put it on the futon. "This room should be an archeological dig." 

"Shoo, shoo," Blair said. 

"I can't see you waving me away." 

"Then how do you know I did that?" 

"I know your behaviors. Blair, if they cut off your hands, you wouldn't be able to speak. Let's get out of this excavation site and go upstairs." 

"Let me log off." 

Jim carefully left Blair's home office and went upstairs. He would only wait so long. He turned on his radio and listened NPR. The Jag game wouldn't be on till tonight. Blair came upstairs and sat by Jim on the bed. Jim continued to listen Morning Edition. Blair took his hand. "How are you doing?" 

"Good. I'm listening to the news." 

"You can't be OK with all this." Blair put a hand on Jim's face. 

"I wanted to help with the case this morning. They wouldn't have found Marten's body if I didn't hear the choppers. Everything I've worked for is gone because I stuck my fingers in my eyes. Simon admits that I could tell him more about the crime scene than someone with 20/20 vision. I'm a cop. It's who I am." 

"You are still Jim Ellison. Margaret is going to help us get you the help you need." 

Jim pushed Blair's hand away from him. "She isn't going to make me see, again." 

"Man, anger is good. It's a stage of the grieving. That means you've moved past shock and denial." 

* * *

After Margaret left and they made an appointment for Jim to start classes at the Rehabilitation Center, Blair followed Jim to the bedroom. Jim undressed then took the KY jelly from the drawer. 

"You're mine," Jim said, looking at the Blair, the hazy brown pattern highlighted in gold light. Jim could hear Blair's heartbeat and his breathing. He smelled like apple essence conditioner, dial soap, Blair's earthy musk and the leather of size 8 1/2 Nike. "Blair, take your shoes off and the rest of your clothes or I'll undress you." 

Blair sat on the bed. "I'd like to see you try." 

"Is that a challenge?" Jim reached down to untie Blair's sneaker and remove them. Then he playfully pulled off Blair's socks, argyle from the texture of them. "Shirt or pants, next?" 

Blair put Jim's hands on his chest. "No ripping off my buttons. It's a good shirt." 

Jim undid the buttons. "Nice soft cotton." He took off Blair's shirt then pulled his tee shirt off over his head. Gently pulling Blair down on the bed, Jim kissed Blair and put his hand on the front of Blair's pants to undo his fly. "Blair, you know what they say about blind people?" 

"What?" said the younger man, spread out on the large bed. 

"They're great with their hands." Jim kissed Blair's belly then undid his fly. Jim laid more kisses on Blair was he pulled down Blair's pants. 

Blair took his pants off the rest of the way and removed his underwear. Jim put a hand on Blair's naked thigh. "You need to learn patience. I would have gotten them off." 

"Jim, I fuck me. I need you now." 

Jim felt for the KY jelly on the nightstand where he left it. "Roll over." Jim put the tube of KY on the bed and touched Blair's small round butt cheeks with both hands. Jim kissed Blair's hole. Blair squirmed. 

Jim bent down to kiss and lick Blair more. He wanted to taste Blair, so the KY would wait. Blair's skin was so soft and his muscles so firm. He wanted to savor Blair's virgin butt. After tonight, it wouldn't be virginal. Jim had been with men before Blair. He wanted this moment to be special for Blair. He was never anyone's first before. 

Jim opened the tube and put some KY on his fingertips. "Blair, honey, I love you." 

"Jim, I love you, too," said Blair. 

"I'm going to put a finger in to spread some lube. Tell me if it hurts." Jim put his finger into Blair's tight butt and spread the KY around. He had made love in the dark. He let his sense of touch lead him. "Feel good." 

"Ah-huh," whispered Blair. 

Jim put more lube on his fingers and put two fingers in. He didn't want to hurt Blair and he was so hot and tight. He then put lube on his cock. "I want this to be a good experience for you. I love you, honey." 

Jim slowly entered Blair's tight hole. He wrapped his arms around Blair as he fucked him. Blair made little moans as Jim thrusted until both of them came. Jim collapsed on the bed beside Blair. "Good for you?" Jim said between gasps. 

"Ah-huh." Blair kissed Jim's lips and spooned his body against the bigger man. 

Jim closed his eyes."Ah-huh." He shook a bit from the cool air and sexual release then he pulled the blanket over himself and Blair. He kissed Blair's cheek and put a hand on his hair. 

* * *

Blair drove Jim to The Cascade Rehabilitation Center early Monday morning. He would have private therapy from 9 to 11, 11 to noon for lunch and noon to two for class with other rehab patients. It was a four-week program. After that, Jim could enroll in vocational training. He was here to learn life skills. 

Jim explained to Lisa (like Lisa Hughes) Parker, his therapist, that he wanted to learn how to use a cane and be able to take a bus. "I've never been dependent on anyone." 

"I can drive you," said Blair. 

"You return to school in two weeks," said Jim. 

"By two weeks, you should be able to get all over the city by yourself," said Lisa. 

Blair kissed his cheek. "You have a good day in school." 

After rehab, Jim showed Blair how well he get around the neighborhood with a cane. "I also took a cooking class. The cooking teacher gave me a card with Braille, so I can follow the recipe. She taught a few tricks on how to measure liquids and solids, but it was pretty basic stuff." 

"Then your day went well." 

"I'm the youngest person in my class," said Jim. "I have four people in my cooking class. Mrs. Howell and Mrs. Birnell both lost their sight due to diabetes, Mr. Clarkson glaucoma. He teased that he lost the sight in one eye as a child due to a fishing accident. He didn't think he would lose sight in the other." 

"You didn't tell your teacher you can read raised and indented print?" 

"What does it matter? I'm no longer your prized sentinel. You claimed to have found research on hundreds of people with enhanced senses. I can taste coffee or test perfume." 

"Why not?" Blair put an arm around Jim. "I recall you're pretty good at it." 

"I'll keep that in mind. How about ice cream taster?" Jim smiled. 

"That would be a dream job." Blair put his hand in Jim's hand. "Why don't we get some ice cream? All this walking around is making me hungry." 

"I'm sorry I didn't save you any pancakes." 

"It's bad enough I have to eat your cooking at home." 

"I'm a pretty good cook. I've never heard you complain." 

"That was when you could see what you were putting in the wok." Blair's voice said he was teasing. 

"Blair, Lisa was impressed with my ability to navigate with a cane. However, we haven't gone over money. You better handle the money until a couple more lessons." 

"Just don't give the donut girl your twenties. Ask for change," Blair said. "I can handle it for now." Blair opened the door for Jim. 

"Thank you," said Jim. 

"I appreciate the 'thank you's, but it isn't necessary," Blair teased. 

Jim went in line with Blair. 

A man went over to Jim. "You're still ignoring me." 

Blair got in the man's face. "White cane means blind." 

Steve tapped Jim on the shoulder. "Jim, I'm Steve." 

"Your voice sounds different," said Jim. Steve, as in his brother Steve, was a teenager last time he heard his voice. 

"It's been fifteen years," said Steve. 

"Where are you sitting?" Jim turned in Blair's direction. "Blair, a cone of vanilla." 

"Sure thing. Nothing daring like cherry cheesecake?" Blair teased. 

"I'm in a vanilla mood tonight," said Jim taking hold of Steve's arm. 

"You weren't in a vanilla mood last night," Blair whispered for Jim's ears. 

Steve led Jim to the table. A fidgeting child was sitting across from him. 

"Hello, I'm Jim," he said to the child with the bouncing leg. 

"I'm Jennifer," said the girl. 

"Jim is my older brother, your uncle," explained Steve. "You want strawberry with sprinkles, right?" 

"Yes, Daddy." The girl had sarcasm in her voice. 

Jim asked, "How old are you?" 

"Seven," said Jennifer. "Dad said you were lost in Peru. He also had said all that time alone messed with your mind." 

"It did. My friend Blair is helping move past it." Jim smiled. The child was only repeating what she was told about her missing uncle. She was probably told he has problems, not to be upset if he doesn't visit. 

Blair came over and handed Jim a cone of vanilla. Blair sat down with what smelled like peppermint stick (The bowl clanged on the table.) in a bowl. "Hello, I'm Uncle Blair." 

"You aren't my uncle, too?" said the girl. 

"I live with Uncle Jim," said Blair. 

Steve gave Jennifer her ice cream cone then sat down. 

"Eat your strawberry ice cream," said Jim. 

"How do you know it's strawberry?" asked Jennifer. 

"Your father said he was getting you a strawberry cone with sprinkles. Memory." Jim pointed to his head with the hand not holding the ice cream cone. "Steve never told me about you." 

"You stopped answering my letters then your chopper went down," said Steve. 

"We should talk," said Jim. 

"I hear nothing in years and suddenly everything is OK. I'm suppose to have sympathy for you because you're blind." 

"No, I have a niece now. You invited me to your table," said Jim. 

"Dad and the car was a long time ago. You were the one who smashed the car and blamed me. I was the injured party." 

"You were always so perfect," Steve said. "I could never compete with that." 

"It was wrong that Dad made us compete." Jim finished his cone and licked his fingers. 

"Use a napkin. You're setting a bad example for the kid," said Steve. 

"Next time, I'll lick your fingers," said Blair. 

"Steve, I have a niece I've never seen. I'm going to the rest room." Jim took his cane and slowly made his way across the restaurant. He asked the cashier, "Excuse me. Where is the bathroom?" 

"In the back, the first door is men the second door is women," said the cashier. 

He went in the bathroom and felt for the sink. Knowing his face was sticky, he washed his hands then splashed his face. He dried his hands under the hand-dryer. He took his cane and walked back to the table, remembering which table it was. Walking across a restaurant wasn't as easy as it was less than two weeks ago. Smelling Blair's peppermint breath, he sat back down on his chair. 

"Jennifer, what do you look like?" Jim asked. 

"I have blue eyes and sandy brown hair." She made a slight breeze by shaking her, at least, shoulder-length, maybe, even longer hair. She put his hands on her face. "What do you think? Aren't I beautiful?" 

Jim felt her pudgy cheeks and small nose. The girl had a few extra pounds on her. Her moving leg told him she had lots of nervous energy. "You have the Ellison chin and Steve's nose." Jim then put his hands on his lap. 

"How did you find the way back?" asked the girl. 

"I counted the number of steps from the table to the counter," Jim explained. "I also can smell Uncle Blair's breath. He smells like he ate a dozen candy canes." 

"Blair, how long have you known my brother?" asked Steve. 

"Almost a year," said Blair. 

"Has he been blind the whole time?" asked Steve. 

"No, Jim lost his sight about two weeks ago," said Blair. "He was a cop. He was stopping a new drug from entering the market and he got it in his eyes." 

"You get around amazingly well," said Steve. 

"Thanks." Jim smiled. He found himself smiling a lot because he could no longer make eye contact. He wanted to show people he was listening. Missing the body language half the conversation was missing, with Blair, probably, more than half. 

Steve tagged on Jim's arm. "Can we talk outside?" 

Jim got his cane. "Sure, little brother." 

Steve dragged him outside. "I haven't seen you in years. You act like we spoke two days ago." 

"What did I do?" Jim asked. 

"Maybe, I don't want you touching my daughter." 

"She put my hands on her face." Jim said. 

"How old is your jailbait boyfriend?" asked Steve. "Eighteen? Twenty?" 

"He's twenty-seven. Blair has saved my life on a number of occasions. He's a nice man." 

"Who eats peppermint ice cream, carries a backpack and giggles," said Steve. 

"Last time, I checked I was the older brother." Jim walked back inside. 

Jim sat back down. "Uncle Blair and I have a busy day tomorrow. Jennifer, it was nice meeting you." 

"Blair, what do you do for a living?" asked Steve. 

"I'm a grad student." Blair jotted something down on a scrap of paper from his backpack. "This is my email at the university. I don't check my box every day." 

Steve wrote on a napkin. "Here's my phone number." 

Jim felt the imprint. "555-3738." He entered it in his phone. 

"You can't feel the ink," said Jennifer. 

"No, I can feel the imprint," said Jim. "I saved a mother and a girl a little older than you from this bad man by reading the address off a pad of paper." 

"That's neat," said Jennifer. 

Jim wrote his number on a sheet of paper. "Stay in touch." 

* * *

The next day, Lisa was watching Jim read a Braille book. "I can hear you breathe," teased Jim. 

"You shouldn't say those things." Lisa sat down. "Enough people think blind people are creepy because they can't make eye-contact. You don't have to add fuel to the fire." 

"You can't be reading that fast. You told me you didn't know Braille." 

"Mary gave me an alphabet card," Jim explained. Mary taught the afternoon class. 

"What are you reading?" 

"The Naked Sun by Isaac Asimov," said Jim. "I picked up Tom Sawyer first. I read the Robot stories as a child. Elijah Baley's panic on the plane reminds me a bit of Blair's." 

"You can borrow it" 

"Thanks." 

"You can order audio books and Braille books at the Cascade library. They can get them by Inter-library loan free of charge." 

"Listening to a book isn't the same thing as reading it." 

"Have you read The Caves of Steel?" 

"I've always meant to. Do you have it?" 

"No, we have a pretty odd collection. I can order it for you." 

Jim closed the book. "I better read this one second then." 

Lisa put the book back on the shelf. Jim always meant to read The Caves of Steel and The Naked Sun, but he never got around to it. He had lots of books on his to-read list. 

He really could hear her breathe and hear her heartbeat. He also could hear her hands shuffle the books around the shelves. He knew exactly where Lisa in the rehab room. This room was usually used for the afternoon class, but the other three students were on a field trip. 

She brought a book to his table. He felt the cover. "Carrie," he said. "By Stephen King." 

"Have you read it?" 

"I'm more into Tom Clancy than Stephen King." 

Lisa gave a small laugh. "It was either this, a children's book or the story of Helen Keller." 

"Carrie is fine." Jim's fingertips read, "Part One. Blood Sport. News item from Westover ME." Jim thought back to the dam and Lisa Hughes slipping out of her jacket. He should have grabbed her, not her jacket. She spoke of seeing a beautiful golden castle. He was now sentenced to spending his life seeing her landscape of gold. 

"I'll get you a bag to bring it home. We need more practice in getting around Cascade." 

"I'm here to learn all the skills I need to get vocational training, so I can flip burgers at Wonderburgers. Lisa, I know what you are trying to do, but I rather live off my workman's comp and rental income." 

"That's your choice." Lisa put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here to teach you life skills." 

"You taught me how to separate out my twenties. I can feel the different between a dime, a penny, a nickel and a quarter." 

"Your sense of touch is amazing." Lisa put the book in a plastic bag. 

"I've been told." Jim got up to get a drink of water from the fountain. 

"Jim, you're a former cop and army officer. You're used to being in a position of power and authority. You aren't the type of person who likes asking for help." 

"I'm here because I need help." 

"What do you need help with?" 

"Cooking, washing my clothes, crossing the street. I'm unable to leave my house and go to the market because I may get lost. I want to be able to do for myself." 

Lisa said, "Let's walk to nearest shopping center. You buy your lunch and we can walk back to the center. I'll be right with you, so you don't have to fear getting lost." 

* * *

Jim picked up the phone in the bedroom. "Steve, what a nice surprise?" Blair was downstairs in his office, typing on his laptop. 

"That boy is going to leave you." 

"You meet me once in fifteen years and you think you know me." Jim stretched out on the bed. 

"He's going to get bored and you're going to be fumbling around in the dark." 

"You don't know what you're talking about." 

"I was married four years and we hit a rough stop and she's gone. That college boy is using you." 

"Steve, I'm learning to get around the city on my own. I own waterfront property. I can hire a housekeeper if I so desired." 

"The housekeeper wouldn't fuck you." 

"It's none of your business what Blair and I do." 

"Mark my words. He'll be gone within the year." 

"I don't need to listen to shit from you." Jim hung up. 

Blair walked up the stairs. "Who was on the phone?" 

"My brother. He thinks you're going to leave me." 

"Why?" 

"Because you're a bubbly college kid and I'm an middle-aged disabled man. What could I possibly offer you?" 

Blair put his hand over Jim's short hair. "A home. I love you. I never felt like I belonged before I met you." 

"Go back to writing your diss." 

"Jim, I'm not going to leave you once I get my PhD." Blair rubbed circles in Jim's back. 

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. Carolyn left me." 

"I love you. What do I need to do to prove it to you?" Blair put his head against Jim's back. 

"Can you stay up here and hold me?" 

* * *

The next week, Jim got the bus outside the Center, made the transfer at terminal and told the bus driver his stop. Jim sat behind the driver. Lisa sat beside him. When they got to his stop, the driver said, "850 Prospect." 

Jim followed his nose to the bakery. In the golden glare of daytime, he could barely make out the bakery door. He used his cane to locate it. He took a seat at one of the small tables. "I'll have coffee and a buttermilk donut. You offered to pay if I could find my way without coaching." 

In a minute or so, Lisa returned with coffee and donuts. "Coffee at two o'clock. Donut at six." 

Jim took a sip of his coffee then put it down. "I'm calling Blair. He doesn't return to class until Monday." 

"He's a professor?" 

"A teaching fellow." Jim pushed auto-dial on the cell phone. "Blair, I'm at the bakery." 

"I'll be down. I bought you a present." Blair hung up or got disconnected. 

Jim drank more of his coffee and set it back down at two o'clock. Finally, he took a bit of his donut. 

After Jim finished his donut, Blair arrived at the bakery. "Hi, Joe." Jim pictured Blair waving to the bakery owner in his mind. 

Lisa pulled over a chair. "Blair, don't baby Jim." 

Blair opened a paper bag and handed Jim a plastic gun with letters on a disk. 

"A label gun," said Jim. 

"I labeled the cans and the spices. The last time Jim made dinner he sniffed every spice in the loft," Blair explained. 

Lisa said, "Those labels are on the small size. Are you sure Jim can read them?" 

Jim punched "Let's fuck" on the plastic label tape. "I can read them and make my own. It's a great present." Jim put the label in Blair's hand then kissed his cheek. 

Joe's, the bakery owner's, heart rate went up. I can raise your rent or not renew your lease. It was a small kiss, nothing indecent. 

"Let's go upstairs." Jim said. 

"Good-bye," said Lisa. 

Jim took his cane in one hand and the half-finished coffee in the other hand. "Bye, Lisa." 

The crinkle of the paper bag told Jim that Blair had put the label gun back in its paper bag. Blair took the cane then Jim's hand. "Nice seeing you, Lisa." 

After they got in the loft, Jim said, "Let's go fishing." 

"Now? You?" Blair said, putting the label gun in the kitchen drawer. 

"The fresh air feels the same. The tug on the line is the same." 

"Why don't we go in two or four months?" 

"You have school off now." Jim sat on the sofa. "You haven't lived until you've ice fished." 

"I can live quite fine without ice fishing." 

"We both have been cramped up in the house. Think about it." 

"Thought about it," said Blair. "Thermal sleeping bags. Washington or British Columbia in winter." 

Jim walked over to Blair and put his arms around him. "The walls are climbing in on me. It's your fault. You're the one who brought up ambiance." 

Blair rested against Jim's chest. 'Man, we'll go." 

* * *

End See No Evil by Athena: athena@fateordestiny.com

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